


A Dream of Desire

by Bethynyc



Category: The Sandman, Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-11
Updated: 2011-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-20 07:43:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethynyc/pseuds/Bethynyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After leaving after "Children of Earth", Jack has a dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dream of Desire

**Author's Note:**

> written for omnijaxual. Many thanks for malinaldarose for her beta

Jack's traveling and he doesn't know how long it's been since he spent more than an Earth week on one planet. He meets lonely tramp asteroid miners and works a leg or two on their tiny ships, or tends bar on a luxury space liner, or just wanders, hitchhiking through the universe. He even knows where his towel is, and it is kind of sad that he still thinks of references to Earth culture when most of the universe really doesn't care.

He doesn't care either. Really. And he's going to keep drinking himself into oblivion until he believes it.

During one of these drunks he wakes up without a hangover. This isn't where he fell asleep; Jack's pretty sure he would remember falling asleep in a castle. He rolls off the red velvet chaise lounge and searches for a bathroom, found only after wandering into the world's hugest library and asking for directions from a pumpkin smoking a cigar.

Jack steps out of the bathroom to find a completely different corridor than the one that originally led to the lavatory. Instead of being interior stones with medieval-esque tapestries, the hallway reminds him of one in one of the best brothels in Paris. The crown molding is painted white, with a deep wine carpet plushly covering the floor, and wide, sunny windows draped in sheer billowing curtains.

Jack's interested enough (or bored enough) to follow the hallway to the door at the end. Of course the door magically opens for him, and there, in the middle of the most amazing King Sized Bed of Luxury, reclines a person.

He can't tell if it is a very feminine man or a masculine woman, but ze reclines seductively on the bed, wearing a very familiar expression on hir face. Jack knows that look—he's worn it often enough—the face of someone who knows they are attractive and are totally going to get laid.

“Hello, Jack,” ze says. “Come on over.” Ze pats the bed next to hir, and Jack crawls up with a feral grin.

“Hello, beautiful,” says Jack. “Come here often?”

“Often enough. This is my brother's house.” Ze smirks. “We don't always get along, but he helps me out now and then.” Hir eyes glint sharply gold in the candlelight.

Jack reaches out and traces his finger along one long leg. “And what should I call you?”

Ze meets his eyes, and hir face ripples into the angular cheekbones and knowing eyes of John Hart. “Anything you desire.”

In a flash, Jack jumps off the bed, drawing his gun. His voice is steady and cold. “What are you?”

The ripple moves over hir body again, and ze is in the original form. “Desire.” Ze stretches languidly, and rolls over onto hir back.

Jack doesn't move.

Ze rolls hir eyes. “Oh all right.” Ze sits up and shifts until ze is on the edge of the bed. “Do you know how many times I've taken your form?” Ze ripples again, and Jack stares at himself, dressed in his greatcoat, grown out bangs flopping rakishly over his eyes. “Too many to count. For a long time now.” Ze glares at Jack sharply. “I'd suspect that you made an arrangement with my sister, under other circumstances.”

With a shake of his head, Jack responds. “You have three seconds to convince me.” He aims carefully at his own heart. “One...”

The other Jack stands and strides over to him, takes his face in hir hands and kisses him. Some things are reflex for Jack; he kisses back. Sensation sweeps through his body; a tingle of arousal both gentle and intense. He's being seduced by himself.

The kiss ends, and when Jack opens his eyes he finds himself looking directly into the androgynous being's eyes. “Wow,” he says, somewhat inanely. “Is...is that what it's like? When I kiss...”

“For some, yes.” Another morph sweeps over hir, and Jack now stares into the eyes of Captain Jack Harkness. The original one, the one who died, the man he stole a name and a life from. “Shall we?”

Blue eyes ringed with black lashes, slightly wet with sorrow. “He thought of you, you know. As he died. This was what he longed for, that very last night, alone in his bunk. He was certain that you were a warning to him, that he would die. And all he had was that single kiss.”

They kiss. It is exactly as Jack remembers from his (second) (third?) trip through 1941. Tender and passionate and longing all wrapped up in a kiss, tinged with the sadness that this was all they would ever have. All Jack would ever have of this man.

“We're alone now,” whispers the being that wears the form of the original Jack. “I want this.”

They kiss again, and Jack feels hands on his shoulders, pushing the coat off to puddle on the floor. The original Jack was still in uniform, so he unbuttons the jacket. Jack feels the other one sigh deeply before grabbing his braces and untangling Jack from them. The uniform jacket opens, revealing the dress shirt underneath.

Piece by piece, they strip each other, pausing for kisses and caresses, until they are both naked and, laughing, rolling onto the bed. Jack threads his fingers through the short hair at the back of the neck, and drags his mouth over soft skin.

Suddenly, Jack wants nothing more than to lose himself in this person.

His hand falls on a container of lube, and he hands it to the Other Jack with a wink and a knowing smile. Sooner than he expects, they're fucking, and it is powerful and everything he has ever dreamed about, everything that he has ever desired...

Jack closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them...

...Captain John Hart curls over him, thrusting shallowly, with that irritatingly smug grin on his face...

 _ripple_

...The Doctor, his first Doctor, leaning on his arms, light of life dancing in his eyes...

 _ripple_

...the executioner from his past, the one who let him go, his second set of arms brushing against Jack's hips...

 _ripple_

...the Master, and how many times has he been there in the year that wasn't, when the Master would fuck him before killing him, humiliating him with words and deeds but never ever breaking his spirit or his faith in the Doctor...

 _ripple_

...the other Doctor, the one who brought him to the end of time and back, who told him he was wrong...

 _ripple_

...Gwen? Gwen Cooper, with a strap-on, and how hot was that, teardrop breasts white and pink brushing against his chest...

 _ripple_

...that crazy Czech physics student who believed him when he said he'd just hunted down an alien...

 _ripple_

...Eccentrica Gallumbits, The Triple-Breasted Whore of Eroticon Six, and wasn't it a laugh to see her name in a work of fiction of all things...

 _ripple_

...Ianto...

Ianto!

“No!” and even as he shouts, Jack comes, and it wasn't right, because they'd never done this, out of everything else they had done, Ianto had never topped him, and it was one of those things, one day, they'd get around to it, plenty of time really, but then his world ended even though the Earth was saved, and they never had, not once.

Jack breathes, suppressing his sobs into arms that are no longer familiar, slim yet strong arms that hold him tightly. The faint scent of summer peaches touches his nose, and he finally mourns.

~*~*~*~

“Better?” asks Desire.

“No.” Jack replies. “But...I will be. Eventually.”


End file.
